


The Ultimate Enterprise Bake-Off

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Baking, Competition, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jim and Bones engage in a baking competition</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ultimate Enterprise Bake-Off

Leonard shook his head, more to himself than to Jim nearby, as the captain swore loudly and at great length. It had been the second time in five minutes that Jim had cut himself, bright red droplets of blood scattering over one of the Enterprise's many kitchen work-surfaces. Leonard sighed and waited for Jim's inevitable approach.

“Bones, I've cut myself again,” Jim said, the pout that wasn't on his face clearly evident in his tone.

Leonard's sigh was more affectionate than irritated, yet still he offered the captain a scowl, more out of habit than through any real need to do so. 

“Dammit, Jim, this was your idea, you know,” he reminded the captain, even as he applied his handheld dermal regenerator to Jim's hand. 

He silently was grateful that he'd even thought it prudent to have the regenerator within easy reach, in the likelihood of Jim's injuries. Jim, at least, was patient to wait, for once, hand a little greasy from his baking against Leonard's own. 

“C'mon, I was drunk at the time,” Jim said, in amusement, finally able to draw his hand away from the regenerator once the doctor had finished using it. “As were you, might I remind you.” 

Leonard scowled at him, even as he leant back against his work-surface, mind reeling back over the events of the night before. They'd been enjoying some much needed shore leave, downing copious exotic drinks whilst planet-side upon Sem VII. Somehow, the topic had drunkenly veered to food, and who was the better baker out of Jim and Leonard. They'd agreed to test out their skills in the Enterprise's kitchens the very next day. Leonard had vaguely remembered wagers being placed by Scotty, Uhura and Sulu; Chekov and Spock had abstained from placing wagers of their own, yet both were still curious enough to eat the outcome of their pursuits, despite this. He sighed at the memories, shaking his head wearily at Jim, as his thoughts returned to the present once more.

“I don't know why I let you talk me into these things, Jim, drunken wagers or not,” he murmured, as he turned back to his chopping board. 

“Things are far more fun when I'm around, admit it,” Jim said, with a laugh, clapping the doctor heartily upon the shoulder. 

Leonard pointedly didn't answer, too engrossed in returning his attentions to the cornbread he was making, adhering to his momma's recipe long since ingrained into his memory. It had somehow fallen to Leonard to choose their menu; he'd subsequently chosen cornbread and grits, knowing that he'd need his own personal form of comfort food after going head to head with Jim in the kitchen. Jim had agreed to the choice easily, waiting for Leonard to type out the requisite recipe on his PADD before diligently attempting to copy the recipe word for word. 

Silence reigned between them, broken only by the odd contented murmur from Leonard as he lost himself in the soothing confines of baking his favourite food, which proved a jarring counterpoint to Jim's curses and angry epithets when things went wrong for the inexperienced wannabe-chef. Finally, it came time for the pair to place their creations into the Enterprise's ovens and to wait for the finished results. Jim looked far more nervous than Leonard felt.

 

“So? What do you think, presentation wise?” Jim asked, hopefully as the entire Bridge crew crowded around Jim and Leonard's culinary offerings. 

There was weighted silence, with many an embarrassed glance being exchanged. Leonard had to hide a smile behind a swiftly raised hand; he'd been expecting that very reaction. Leonard's meal had turned out as he'd expected it to, cornbread the perfect shade of yellow, the grits at the right consistency, while the black-eyed beans were boiled to tender, plump softness. Even the biscuits and gravy were just like his momma used to make, redolent with memories of home. In comparison, Jim's own offering was a sad mishmash of grey cornbread, and gloopy, equally grey, grits. His beans were scorched and dry and the sausage gravy a congealed, lumpy mass over rock hard biscuits. 

“Let's just judge them on the taste, shall we?” Scotty said, diplomatically, with a wink at the now openly grinning doctor.

“That bad, huh? I knew it,” Jim said, despondently. “You told me it'd be okay, Bones.” 

“No, Jim; I said it was goddamned bad, but to pretend like it was okay,” Leonard corrected him. 

Jim grunted, while titters and muffled laughter came from those around them. Spock merely raised one eyebrow and sampled some of Leonard's beans. He remained quiet, as did the rest of the crew as they sampled the food in front of them. Leonard noticed that they polished off most of his meal, while Jim's went mostly, and rather sadly, untouched. 

“Well, I think it's clear who won that one, then,” Jim said, as he grimaced over his grits. “It's Chef Bones, here.” 

He gestured towards the doctor, a smile brightening the captain's face in direct contrast to Leonard's sudden scowl.

“Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a chef. I do have my momma to thank for what cooking skills I do have, though,” he growled, affection clear in his tone despite his scowl. 

“Well, then, you'll have to teach me in turn,” Jim said, smiling hopefully at the doctor. “You always tell me I should eat properly. At least you'd be keeping a proper doctor's eye on me.” 

Leonard nodded at that, knowing that the idea was a good one, despite the fact that he suspected that the captain had him wrapped around his little finger as per usual. 

“Well, I think that can be easily arranged,” he said, finally smiling at Jim.


End file.
